


Boatsewn

by Foxfiery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxfiery/pseuds/Foxfiery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While sewing the pirate flag for their ship, Aranea, with a little help from Meenah, tells the rest of the crew and a growing crowd a story about the Beforian ancestors of the alpha trolls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boatsewn

\--- This fanfic takes place on the boat, slightly before page 7847, and ends just before john falls asleep and joins the rest of the crew.---

\--- Chapter 1---

This, of all things.  For the eighty something millions of sweeps she has spent wandering dream bubbles, Aranea’s patience has never been tried so strongly as right now. As the perforated metalline quill leapt from it’s arrangements yet another time, landing almost a full centimeter deep in her fingertip, for a moment it was almost a monument to the continual errors of this utterly human task of manually binding costume scraps. To reflect the pirate flag none of us can quite manage to dream conjure correctly from adequate memory parts, no less, but one imperative for distinguishing our flagship apart from the growing hundreds imagined exactly in the form of ours following in our wake.  

“My bad, for not staring longer at pirate flags.” Her thoughts almost transmitted in a growl, in a moment of uncharacteristic frustration towards her oblivious captors.

“uHHH SORRY;  iS THAT UH, HARD TO DO?” Tavros said, genuinely confused but also sneering at what comprehension of misfortune he had of what was unfolding in Aranea’s attempts to bind the contrasting scraps.

“y0u didn’t have t0 keep the ball r0lling 0n the wh0le h0rnpile 0f details.”  Sollux replied.  “Insisting all that shit y0u sh0uld have been the 0ne t0 make it.”

“wELL I DID TRY; yOU SHOULD AT LEAST GIVE MY BLEEDING STUBS THAT CREDIT;  i TRIED TO DO IT MY WAY; 

“Try to do it my way.” Aranea thought. “It may 8e the only way I ever get this 8ullshit done.” As she struggled to contemplate the difficulty of using the tiny quill and jealously though of the countless human hands who had done such greater tasks with ease, Tavros’s chatter made her reconsider, and she leaned back in her chair pausing for a moment. 

For the first time in some great while, she pondered if it would be fitting to employ exposition not for it’s own sake, but more as a web to tangle these dumb boys for long enough to let her finish this final task in making official her company’s admiralty.  Such a web would not only have to be sticky to be ensnaring to its victims, but perhaps even downright juicy, if it could perhaps find its way to gagging their noise trumpeting throat ducts for the task at hand.  These poor perforated hands.

Interrupting yet another monologue on the certainty of Tavros’s inability to contribute in any meaningful way before it could unfold, Aranea thought of the one unexplored avenue that may pique the interests of the increasingly agitated companions occupying the lower deck with her.

“I never thought to 8ring it up until now!” She exclaimed. “How could I forget to tell you a8out the ancestors we revered on 8eforia, the very shapers of our society and the heralds of it’s golden ages?”

Aranea started to mentally arrange the story along with the contrasty scraps finally liberated from the incessant suggestions of the present trolls not helping in the least.

She looked up from her work suggestively, as much as the solid white beads of her eyes could convey from behind their impossibly thin frames, glanced at the closed door to the upper deck, and remarked in a hushed tone to the others: “I 8et both of you could fill up a few pails over our ancestors, if you think yours were bad ass.”

With a loud and almost room clearing gulp from Tavros’s throat, followed by a more collected but still uncomfortable one from Sollux, Araena knew she may have finally bought enough time to complete the flag.  In doing do, she might someday even afford to don her mindfang costume.

 

\--- Chapter 2 ---

“This will 8e so easy.” Aranea reminded herself, as the first section of fabric scrap showed some promise of sticking.  After a short pause to allow her to gain a foothold of progress with the fabric, she started again to her eager audience.

“Lets go from highest 8lood to lowest, so if Meenah decides to stop in she can just rest assured this time we won’t 8e skipping any more rich exposition just to get to her 8eforian ances... Lets call them 8ancestors.”

“I’m just g0ing to say, this is the expressi0n I have n0w f0r my eyes r0lling at the idea 0f an0ther divisi0n 0f tr0lls. These w0rds.” Sollux hummed. 

“hAHAHA ITS NOT EVEN THAT BAD; bUT WHY ONLY BRING THIS UP NOW?”

“Our 8ancetors, like your Alternian ancestors, never played a version of Sgrub and thus didn’t have Incinisphere ghosts.  It didn’t seem very relevant on our ghost related treasure hunt.  Why make things any more confusing than they have to already 8e?”

If he could have seen Tavros’s nod of understanding, he too might have done so in sync. Instead Sollux sat motionless ready to hear Aranea’s story. His rigid discipline for the current moment while awaiting exposition, as he had grown accustomed to along this journey, made Aranea feel like an accomplished drill sergeant for her ability to inspire her conscripts.

“So first things first, the fuchsia 8lood 8ancestor.  The ruler of 8eforia for countless millennia, and the one to originally unite sea and land trolls together to crush the hordes of 8eforian mutant war8ands.  A hero of a desperate age when the hemochromes had to discard their differences and accept a combined future, to reclaim 8eforia from the closing grip of a ebon blooded mutant plague from the shadows.  When defeat seemed certain, the symbol of a radiant trident emerged from from the tempestuous deeps, and rallied all of the hemochromes behind his cause to victory.”

“wAIT HOLD ON A SECOND; yOU SAID HIS”

“Thats 8ecause in 8eforia, the ancestral heroes of our genetic foundations were in fact different genders than us, or our dancetors, or even their alternian ancestors we would 8ecome within the same hemotype. Interesting, Huh?”

 

\--- Chapter 3 ---

 

Vriska pulled her head back up from the deck, now fully committed to eavesdropping on the only real event on the ship, as the rest of the crew had become ready some time ago for their official flagship commencement.  She had to choose between a poor visual or a poor audio, as the one good crack between floorboards only afforded one.  Slowly she signaled for Aradia to follow her back, who only needed to consider listening in on them to accomplish it, but decided to not physically break the routine of her captain.

In moments Nepeta was motionless along with the others, unable to resist participation in whatever new game was unfolding.

Meenah looked out over the large expanse of nonsense that represented an ocean horizon for the present time in their strange location, careless to the growing interests of the others.

 

\--- Chapter 4 ---

 

“I d0n’t kn0w, s0mething ab0ut this d0esn’t really seem right.” Sollux interjected. “H0w c0me 0ur genders have been c0nsistent every 0ther iterati0n?”

A snarl began to form on Aranea’s lips at the possibility of dissent, that reflected far brighter in Tavros’s face than hers, as a sign at least maybe he will do his part from now on and let the story slowly engulf at least one of it’s intended subjects.

“When I finally sought out Echidna, I was given a choice, which in retrospect seemed too easy of a decision to make. Considering one was the extinction of our glorious race, it hardly felt like a choice as much as a way out.  Once the Gods allowed my access to the human universe’s Furthest Ring, I 8ecame aware of an inconsistency between our sessions;  There was never a point that any of the twelve of us set foot into an ecto8iology lab, or remembers even interacting with the equipment, as Karkat did for 8oth you and the ancestors we would 8ecome for Alternia.  John did the same for his human players. This would imply to me, 8eforia was the product of a prior scratch of the universe before it.”

“That seems ab0ut right, but what w0uld that have t0 d0 with their gender?”

“Soon after land and sea trolls formed a coherent society, the technologies produced 8y their com8ined efforts would revolutionize 8eforia hundreds of sweeps prior to the next ancestor’s spawning. During this time, some manner of organic engineering took place, seemingly to ensure that the players of the prior session would become the rare exceptions to their hemotype’s genetic predispositions.  Much like Alternia’s past, this event seemingly removed the Lime blood caste from the hemospectrum, as it was never present in our society. 

Delightfully she took note of Sollux’s pondering, and Aranea continued on, setting another bit of fabric to its place successfully, and then carefully studying this exceptionally bound scrap.

“Who really knows why? Perhaps, as far flung as the possi8ility would be to us, it was the typical genders for each player’s 8lood color that was to 8lame for their inability to win their session.  At least, after the failure of ours from our teen drama, the notion of something as irrelevant as gender may have 8een as much of a reason as any players might fail, although the very idea seems altogether more human than troll.”

Reaching for another fabric scrap, and pleased that for once in a long while she had set up a story, to for once fulfill her impeccably high standards, Aranea went on.

“Whatever reason the engineering was done, it would seem the first ancestor was almost spawned aware of the faults of his last session. Even though 8eforia was a peaceful and accomplished world 8y his own hands, the heroes that followed him would, against all his attempts to warp them, 8ecome the greatest threat to the stability of unified 8eforia.  That is, before we caused it to be pelted it with meteors about a thousand sweeps later.”

For a moment, the three ghosts all turned from the storytelling to the stairs from the deck above, when a creaky board revealed Nepeta joining them. Without a word she assumed her place with the reclining lowbloods and a sultry smile formed on her face, silently beckoning Aranea to continue.

 

\---Chapter 5 ---

 

With no alarm, Vriska watches Nepeta elect to join the audience proper.  It’s all good, the “audience secret,” as Vriska had deemed her new inter-crew division, is the place for her in all of this.  To be denied the look on the lowbloods’ faces as they slowly become embroiled in this farce started to weigh on her, however.  She might miss some of this nonsense at the price of seeing their resulting horror or misplaced flushed feelings, a pleasure so rarely afforded in the afterlife, when everyone seems so complacent. If only, she could somehow... cheat!

“Aradia.” She whispers as low as her harmocords could vibrate, seeing she was having no issue both watching and listening.

“Gift it to me.” Hardly motioning at nothing in particular.

“what?”

“Th8 Gift!”

“what?”

“G8ft It.”

“ _what?"_  

“G8ft m8 the G8ft 8f G8b!!!!!!!!” 

This truly perplexed her.  How is even possible for her to not be able to clearly understand Vriska, the first time, with the very thing she was talking about?  Could having it once, losing it, and interacting with someone that once had it, remembers, but can gab no longer, cast some manner of sinister shadow across ghostly communications?

“i could maybe record it as it happens? then play it back to you?  from my mouth?  but the visuals wouldn’t be synced up! unless i were to draw them? depending on which you had not seen of course? if you wanted me to clumsily re-exposition something you could just be listening to now?”

“As much as I... _miiiiiiiight_ want to hear this one, I can’t ever let Aranea know a made up story holds my interests or I doubt I would never get to hear the end of it-”

Abruptly the story pauses.

Aranea, like Aradia, has the Gift of Gab, and has heard every single thing she just so quietly uttered, she comes to realize. As soon as her ghostly neurons would allow, she followed with “The flag is looking gr88888888 though!”

As the story started again from its pause, she could hear as clearly as if she was in the room with the others, and under her breath she thanks the other Serket for including her.

 

\--- Chapter 6 ---

 

After a few pauses, and a further lecture into the inherent beauties and accomplishments of Beforian civilization, another interruption befell the story in the form of Aradia, Feferi, and Meenah all coming down the stairs into the lower deck, with Meenah almost bouncing in place with an almost tangible ecstatic glow.

Before a single audience member could address her state, hands starting to raise to point questioningly long before the words would ever leave their noiseholes, Aranea nods with a hellishly knowing glance, and Meenah explodes in a triumphant-

“GLUB YESSS, FIN-A-LEEY!”

Meenah almost seems to proudly proclaim to the rest, her excitement beaming- 

“You glubbin mucks are in for such a whale of a story oh just wow I am just shell shocked this can finally happen.” as her trident obsessively carves out sections of the unfortunate board directly underfoot.

“Take a moment to remem8er how it goes Meenah, this is your 8ig chance after all.” 

Looking back to the rest of the mostly high ranking crew, she begins to explain:

“We spent many a 8ored sweep coming up with how we might ever relate our world’s dramatic histories, including a certain deal... in exchange for getting to explain her 8ancestor, her way... as well as illustrate his... ‘aweswum’ form, Meenah has sworn on impossi8le pains to not interrupt the story in any way after her section.”

“uHHHH?”

“I know it sounds impossi8le given our time together as a crew 8ut 8elieve me when I say I am almost incapa8le of lying without some manner of specific provocation 8ecause of my almost, mmmmmh, perverse adherence to matters of fact.” As she cringes in her chair a little as the audience notices what could only 8e considered a “special technique” of sewing thought up on the spot, which flashy at first ends with a spinning needle em8edded again inside of the tip of Aranea’s already 8attered thum8.

“So whats keeping you?”

“I’m almost r~eddie!” She chimes back in a way that is almost too alien to even take seriously, before turning around with a tiny, tiny image on a scrap of paper.  Passing it around to the audience reveals a strange figure, accompanying Aranea’s final prelude.

“This story highlights the greatest tragedy in modern 8eforian history, and like many 8eforian epics, will 8e told in order of the descending 8lood spectrum, as a song of old a8out the heroes of our kind is, in contrast of course to the ascending spectrum story of classical comedy, 8ut alas this is not that sort of story-” as she looks over to an already impatient Meenah giving a, totally made up “finish your stupid story so my stupid story can 8egin!” signal with her hands, that appears vaguely sexual to half of the confused audience.

“Oh, hah, yes, fine fine.” As she gives a much more clear “the floor is yours” gesture to show that fish gangster how one properly expresses a thought by way of grabtendrils, as the paper makes it was back to Meenah ascending the nonspecific stage.

 

\---Chapter 7 ---

 

Subjecting the audience to a strange dance as she approached the imaginary borders of the stage for her contribution to the performance, it slowly dawned on the more clever patrons just how much time the two beforian friends had spent in preparation of this unusual story being told. Following what seemed like minutes of trident flourishing and high kicks, Meenah let loose a sort of primal hoot, or possibly a composed holler, cleared her throat gills, and all too excitedly began the tale. 

“The Fuchsia Inversion - The IMPERIAL” she announced.

“So a really, REALLY long time ago, before any of us were hatched, before robots, or energy weapons, or space ships or half the cool stuff my ancestor in this reality drives around in, life was glubbin simple.  Sea dwellers hated land folk, the no-gills hated the sea dwellers more, brutalism ruled the day, and their conflicts stagnated the progress greatly of what societies were ever founded.” 

“Up until my Beforian ancestor was hatched.  The destined ruler of his kind, his blood color was the highest possible, and through his tests and trials he mastered almost every gift that would be made available to our kind.  He was also, as the drawing shows, the most massively powerful troll to ever be spawned, the hallowed halls of the palace are etched with countless records of the titanic aberrations, treacherous subordinates, and callous usurpers that were slain by his trident, or often by his bare monstrous hands.  In time, by the wave of his hands he could control the very currents of the seas, although history later revealed this to be the product of an unusual set of the first orbital satellites under his command.  Regardless of the origin of his miraculous powers, he became known as the Old Seapaw; the IMPERIAL protectorate, that directly oversaw his race from a dark age to the shining hope encapsulated in ships that drove across the voids between stars.”

Some audience members looked kind of skeptical, to which Meenah sensed and in a sort of scolding tone, insisted that she had written three different papers on her Seapaw during her time in the royal academy, and aside from the awesome present role model of her new resident universe, there was no one else closer to her bloodpusher. 

Then, in an almost somber, staring at the floor moment, she mentioned how impossible it would be for her of all replacements to rule for the almost fifty millennia it was speculated that the Seapaw enabled a utopian age, but chirped back up with a smile, and continued.

“I could go on forever listing his inventions, monuments, golden ages, and countless victories over the cruelties of nature and fate, but this story involves something more rare than any of those.  Besides benevolent goodness, and the gentle might to lovingly cull even the most wretched beasts who could be tamed to his side, old Seapaw had few convictions and beliefs, and only condoned religious zealotry as the solution to society’s most fickle fringes. One decree he repeated, that was as known across his planetary empire as any law by which all trolls must live, was that a certain single spectrum of blood more rare than his own would usher in an new age.  Any worker overseeing the hatcheries knew and were eternally vigilant for the day a grub would hatch of a color unseen by the eyes of any troll who had ever lived. During the lifetimes of my friends’ beforian ancestors, this event unfolded before the entire planet.”

Swallowing, Meenah continued.

“The prophesied grub was born, and our society celebrated her as a deity.  While this is in some way her story, it involved all of our ancestors, although my Seapaw had strangely elected to have little to do with the living goddess he had so carefully ensured the ascension of.  Maybe he felt that he had personally little to do with her, or perhaps the burden of rulership was too heavy to allow him straying far from his station. I shudder to think sometimes of spending thousands of years only sitting on a throne, but by the time I was hatched he had long since passed away and the autocracy of our sprawling utopia had better come to prepare society for the royal and mutant shades of blood that would occur again after his death.”

A yawn revealed that Feifei had finished her strangely compulsory dream duties and joined the audience, and Meenah looked on with a slight snarl as she finished her monologue, which quickly made her come to beam with the delight of recalling her epic blood relations.

“Finnn-eway, while my Seapaw owned our homeworld somewhat unquestionably, he left  the greater administration, including finances, of the aquatic and continental territories, to the respective highest blood representatives of the sea dwellers below him, and of the destined rulers of the upper troll castes.  Between these leaders a plan was enacted that would forever change the history of Beforia, a conspiracy to unfold a game the likes of which had never been seen in such an peaceful populace.  However, it was nothing like the game which we would all play, it was one that was a glance back to a darker more terrible age, and there was nothing the people wanted to see unfold more once they had been given a taste...”

She breathed in dramatically.

“...of damnation.”

With a bow, Meenah exited the imaginary stage to the applause of some of the audience and started back up the stairs.  Multiple looks of “you won’t be staying for the whole story?” shot up at her as she passed, to which she replied “Someones gotta keep watch right? Besides, I know the rest pretty well, I had to do a few papers...” she trailed off as she began to take in her new surroundings above deck.

“wAIT wAIT!” Tavros protested, feeling a growing representation of his remarks as he made them among the audience.  “cOULD YOU MAYBE, STAY AND DRAW MORE OF THE CHARACTERS FOR US?" 

Looking back down into the hold, she thought for a moment, looked at a non protesting Aranea, and murmured to the growing crowd.  “If you really don’t wanna keep me from my duties above deck, I think Vriska is keeping some watch...” looking directly at her peering though the cracks, an obvious silhouette against the bright dream skies far beyond rendered in the spaces between the boards. 

Meenah sat down a moment, visibly expressed deep thought across her face, then produced a toothy grin as she began to draw the next character on the napkin hastily.

 

\--- Chapter 8 ---

 

Rows of triangles had begin to favor jagged teeth across the black field of the flag, and the larger thinkpan shaped blot of fabric was starting to be connected as the attention shifted back to an Aranea, dually impressed with Meenahs recollections and her accomplishments for this short bit she was spared having to exposition.  Not that she wouldn’t.  It was a kindness extended to Meenah as always for her ability to set the mood perfectly for a history lesson.

She looked around the growing crowd, seeing that Meulin and Mituna both listening intently to every word of her Gift of Gab that pierced though whatever inability they would mortally have to not understand.  She began to be concerned that they might start chiming in somehow, but at worst she would just have to silently control them if they started to obsess over the details, and hoped it would not come to that.

 

\--- Chapter 9 ---

 

Realizing now that the flag was getting finished faster than the story, Aranea started to consider that maybe she would have actually leave some of the, slightly less juicy details out... of the next eleven characters she would be revealing to the ever growing crowd.  Sucking her teeth slightly, she tightened what could only be considered the masochistic bondage ropes holding her overactive imagination in place, and accepted the sensation of tightening brevity being poured across her great works so that the flag and story might somewhat be completed together, and started again, just moments before Meenah passed around the updated napkin to the snickering delights of the audience.

“The Violet Inversion - The PRINCESS” she started, at the very same moment as the illustration passed to Eridan, and he could only get out a “Wweally??” 8efore Aranea silenced him for a moment.

 

“As Meenah mentioned, old Seapaw left most of the technical work of running the planet to the sea dwellers 8eneath him.  The ancient master of her caste, 8ecame known as the PRINCESS, a descendant of the old Seapaw himself, whom he considered an invalua8le pale relation, as the only other technically living 8eing who would survive close to the scope of his own lifespan.  Together they had complacently watched thousands of sweeps pass as the fruits of their work slowly grew into a prosperous jewel  of civilization.” In the middle of all of that the silence on Eridan fell away, 8ut it was not even apparent with how much he was already captivated 8y his wonderful 8ancestor.

“They had laughed a8out jokes in the duration stars in the heavens were extinguished and formed anew. To their perspective, the motions of the tectonic plates were little more than a planetary flow of hundreds of trillions of tons stone and 8edrock, 8ucking and spinning a8out, and controlled them with their o8servations as if the very chunks of the planet were nothing more than rafts tied down to a dock.” 

“This is 8ecause” she started again. “The Princess 8ecame the master of the highest forms of technological innovation, many of them designed 8y her own research and specifications.  She had weapons of immense power, that often came off as nothing more than simple hivehold o8jects.  Her trademark was a long, extremely narrow cylinder, that dou8led as a vaporizer of certain sea her8 wrapped sticks she fancied.  I never read many of the stories of her genius exploits and explorations of our world’s deepest secrets, 8ut I think at one time at least a thousand sweeps prior, she used that little smoking wand to put a perfect hole in a 8ulkhead of an invading alien mothership in or8it while at a 8ar in one of her favorite salons, and singlehandedly stopped an entire aggressor species without even putting down her drink.” 

“So you see, she was without question, a priceless asset to the sanctity of our empire.” she said with a som8er tone. “This is why, when she asked what the Old Seapaw for his 8lessing when her friends came to her with the plan that would unfold, his only requirement was that she could not have any physical part in it, and if her, or any other sea dweller was to step foot within the grounds of the game in session, it would instantly 8e drawn to a close, and the winners decided 8y without a moment more of the game unfolding. To which she agreed without question.  Even if the game took a dark turn as he seemed to 8e concerned with, she was left with the ultimate card to play, and yet again as the pale goddess she was for most of her friends, she would come to the rescue 8efore anyone loses too many teeth over a intoxicated disagreement, as she had done for countless lifetimes of the paragons of other 8lood colors she would sometimes consort with and 8efriend in the many dealings she would make with the appointed rulers of the surface.”

“Pretty princess Eridan?  Please tell me I haven’t missed whatever kinda sexy maid Karkat gets turned int0 yet.” Sollux interjects. 

“Only if you don’t interrupt me anymore, my sweet little twice alive twice dead honeypie!” Aranea seems to rattle off not even aware of what a freudian slip would 8e in the least, more consumed 8y the concerns of her project fusing together 8efore her.  To which Sollux said nothing, and sat down compliantly.  Aradia, on the other hand, gave a look around the audience that sternly expressed “No, that wont 8e happening, don’t even give it a second thought.”

 

\--- Chapter 10 ---

 

With the next drawing ready for some time, Meenah passes it around, as Aranea continues, sewing along with every few words.

“The Purple Inversion - The 8ARONESS”

 

“The currently appointed High Priestess of the Imperial Cult, which existed since ancient times as the unquestioned administrator of the a8ove water provinces, was an unusually dogmatic enforcer of order, and was usually quiet, if not stoic.  Her taste for discipline had 8ecome feared, as she employed rarely used archaic 8lood systems in place to su8jugate the fringe of unruly criminal land trolls, that were still extant within her caste since the prehistoric times.  It was almost well known 8y the time the game was orchestrated that she had killed multiple trolls and written the laws they infracted out in their 8lood at the place of their crime and su8sequent death.  This came to 8e known as the sign of the 8ARONESS.”

Aranea sighed. “It was pro8lematic to say the least, for an otherwise orderly society to have one person to play judge, jury, and executioner, 8ut I feel the rise of other advances lead to her way of thinking 8ecoming toxic and infectious, and in turn readying the audience to themselves join the struggle set 8efore them.  That she, with her High Priestess authority, would ena8le to happen 8y using one of the larger 8eforian nature preserves as the setting for the great game, a power she and she alone might enact in ink and quill, sealed in the laughing face wax signet of her sovereign authority.”

She looked around, for a moment, actually wondering if that terri8le moron might somehow sleep his way here, but to her delight he was nowhere to be found.

 

\--- Chapter 11 ---

 

“The Indigo Inversion - The MISTRESS” Arena said, as the next drawing started to make it’s rounds.

 

“Some thought, from the very start, the great game was enacted for a single reason: to allow a certain hero of the people, entitled as the martial MISTRESS of all land dwellers, to reach the top and increase her cele8rity without issue.  With an unerring aim, and a sort of might that could drive an arrow clean though a thick plate of the most hardened metals, her talent was a natural gift inside of the game, and she would make it to the winner’s circle 8efore most of the trou8les would even 8efall the players.  With the perfect companionship of her mastered strength and skillful resolve, she shredded most of the ro8otic antagonists that peppered the initial form of the game.”

Almost singeing one onlooker directly with her gaze, she continued.  “A true victor, she stepped into the winner circle to await the two more champions that would stand alongside her, at the last challenge to determine the final grand winner.  A soldier of few words, she waited in silence for a very long time for company within the 8ounds of the penultimate victory, each day only doing her regiment of exercises and archery training.  A true model of patience and resolve, that for all of her victories never entitled her to arrogance, only an unceasing desire to serve her people.”

With that, a sniffle revealed a sobbing Equius being tended to by Nepeta, as he was overcome with admiration for his other self completely.  They hugged and rocked back and forth together as the story continued for a little while, with Equius trying his best to contain his blubbering.

 

\--- Chapter 12 ---

 

“The Co8alt Inversion - The GAMEWARD” Aranea said, looking at the spying Vriska.

 

“A relatively unknown master of gam8ling halls and organized crime, the 8lue 8lood was the one who originally conceived the idea of the game, and 8egan to spread the idea among his friends in high places.  He rationalized that there would 8e a completely new economy to emerge under the yoke of worldwide entertainment, and designed a sensational venture to 8e the maiden programming of the emerging audio and video networks of the times.”

She continued to explain: “At the winners circle, the Gameward, along with the 8aroness and one more elected supervisor would form a triad of judgement.  They would deli8erate as a group over the attempts of the three players that would make it to the winner’s circle, and crown one the ultimate victor of the game after the final test.  Outside of the game, he used his connections to traffic prisoners, enemies, and even the plain unlucky into the game, to ultimately 8e fodder to the ever increasing dangers of the game centralizing violent criminals that would survive the ro8ots and 8easts set against them.  He would arrange most of the 8etting done on the game’s players, after secretly setting them up to raise or fall, and to always, eventually, fall dead.  This 8ecame the nature of the game for some time, as it was more entertaining to see aspirants fail than it was to focus on the waiting winner, which did not sit well with the other judges.  He on the other hand, had everything to gain from rigging the very game he invented, on every level of supply and demand, and did his a8solute 8est to ensure no one would ever uncover all of the layers of deception, and did everything in his power to ensure the game unfolded perfectly as if there was no tampering on his part, only more and more downtrodden and 8loodthirsty gladiators appearing to want nothing more than to live or die within the grand spectacle of their age.” 

No one spoke. Vriska looked in longingly, considering that maybe she should have gone inside with Aradia so she could be nodding and cheering on her badass 8ancestor.

 

\--- Chapter 13 ---

 

“The Teal Inversion - The JUSTICAR” she started, noting the arrangement of the wellformed shapes on the flag.

 

“He was the third seat in the triad of judgement, seeming ideal 8y 8eing the ultimate judicial authority for land dwellers who committed crimes that would make it to the highest courts.  It was one of the great terrors of 8eforia, it was said, to 8e sentenced 8efore the court of the JUSTICAR himself.” She started to almost yawn, and held it in.

“His naive agreement with the other two plotting overlords of the game only cemented the corruption unfolding 8efore him.  While he continually found the actions of the game against the players fair, it was only 8ecause he existed in a persistent 8lind spot from the master plans of the Gameward.  For all that he had ever overseen, nothing would prepare him for the deceptions that unfurled 8efore him, and under the rule of their agreement, almost an entire sweep went past 8efore anyone else would even make it close to the winner’s circle.  It would 8e even longer 8efore he would raise his voice in disagreement with the council he so seriously contri8uted to.”

After another needle slipped and found its way into her finger, she put it in her mouth a moment, before starting back. “These ‘Orchestrators’ were all integral to the game happening as it trickled down from the authority of the Old Seapaw himself.  The lower 8lood were not instrumental to the game coming together, they are the agents of it’s resolution, and are therefore known as...”

Her voice deepened and intensified. “They were, the ‘Suckers’ it turns out. What had united them to the game was their relation to ascent of the goddess, who was revealed to the 8eforian pu8lic after the first sweep of the game unfolded.”

The representative lowbloods squirmed in their seats at the revelation, some even loudly gulping in unison.

 

\--- Chapter 14 ---

 

“The Jade Inversion - The COOKLORD” She said as the napkin now with many characters made its seventh trip around the onlookers. 

 

“He was the jade8lood who found the goddess gru8, and 8ecame the paternal force within her life, trading his life of gru8 nurture for one of endless servitude to the growing goddess.  Applying all he knew a8out the prosperity of troll physiology, he reared the goddess into the most utterly captivating example of 8eforian 8eauty and grace ever conceived. In doing so, he would 8ecome a world renowned authority on all manner of foodstuff creation and mastery, turning the dishes he prepared for her into the most popular entrees on the entire planet, earning his place as the COOKLORD.”

“It wasn’t long at all.” Aranea said. “8efore he was starting to enter the quadrants of the elite of society, and 8ecame a staple of the princess’s dining ha8its, and a regular guest of the oceanic palaces that hosted his feasts.  He was in her company, catering at a gathering of a few friends, when the world changed forever.”

Puzzled, some of the audience looked at one another before she continued.

 

\--- Chapter 15 ---

 

“The Olive Inversion - The ASPIRANT” she said with a smile, 8eaming at Nepeta and Meulin.

“Once the goddess had 8een revealed, the Gameward did everything within his power to entice her to join the great game, insisting that the most popular troll on the planet playing the most popular game would have little issue, 8ecause no person on the planet would 8e a8le to resist helping her.  There was something in the nature of her mutant 8lood that made her 8eloved intensely, especially 8y the low8loods.  Once she confirmed she too would play, countless new players joined on the hope that they might get to 8e the knight to 8rings the lady goddess to the end.  For those low in society there was little other hope of 8ecoming recognized across the whole world, and on such a condition, the ASPIRANT joined along with the other countless legions.”

With a glowing smile, Aranea continued.  “He was not like other trolls, he stood out as a living antiquity.  Where all other trolls showed hesitation at com8at with enemies unlike anything they had ever faced, the Aspirant with his 8are hands would do what most couldn’t stomach to do even with ranged weapons:  He killed his own kind.  He  
‘painted’ a8stract scenes in sprays of 8lood, troll and 8east alike, and in oily ro8otic fluids.  His art had 8een unseen for thousands of sweeps, lost like some great invention only to 8e recovered from some ancient time to the amazement of an adoring pu8lic.  The spectators ate up his violent, indirect approach, and the Gameward took notice, and invested as much of his clandestine influence as he could to ensure the Aspirant would never, ever make it to the winner’s circle if ever he choose to leave the outer rings where he awaited the arrival of the goddess.  When the world changed forever, he was close to 8ecoming the pawn of the Gameward entirely, marching towards a new target to the delight of his countless 8loodthirsty fans.”

Befuddled, the Leijons looked on questioningly, expecting something better from their 8ancestors than to be only pawns, but they wouldn’t start into Aranea just yet.

 

\--- Chapter 16 ---

 

“The Gold Inversion - The MERCHANT” She announced, as some people’s eyes widened at the newest illustration passing around.

 

“She herself was a remarka8le student of industry, logistics, and current technologies, and through the desires of the game, she made her vast fortune. Prior to the game unfolding, few trolls ever wanted to travel far from where they lived to anywhere else, especially as 8roadcast technology ena8led more people to stay in their hives while a8sor8ing the information content of their world. In time, the thirst for violence overtook society, during the second sweep while the Aspirant tirelessly journeyed.  Trolls wanted to 8e ever closer to the arena, to have more and more exclusive positions in the audience, to have 8etter access to all the feeds at the arena compared to just what was fit to 8roadcast.  It was her golden mind that realized the nature of the most dualistically intertwined motes that composed reality, and in unravelling them discovered the a8ility to produce instantaneous portals of travel 8etween any two places on the planet, ena8ling, at a fair cost, anyone to travel from anywhere to the game arena and home on a voyage that would, even using a starliner, take some num8er of hours.  Around this concept, she 8uilt an entire industry to cater to the luxury of portal travel, and as the MERCHANT, 8ecame the wealthy low8lood to ever live up to that point.”

As another coo came from the audience, she started.

“It also helped that, for as intensely serious as the Merchant was in her profession, she cultivated a unique look that 8ecame the 8rand of her products.  It was the highest honor to have the Merchant herself open the portal with which you would travel to the arena, after spending hours 8efore in one of her wonderful salons, or her slightly less wonderful cafes.  Those services were not availa8le the day the world changed forever, 8ecause she was a distinguished guest at the oceanic palace of the princess.”

Sollux nodded, almost seeming to mock Vriska’s inability to nod smugly in agreement with her cobalt 8ancestor, with contentment as the revelations for his were completed.

 

\--- Chapter 17 ---

 

It was with certain excitement that Tavros buzzed in anticipation of hearing about his upcoming bancestor.  With a nod, Aranea continued on with “The 8ronze Inversion - The WILDHAND” to which Tavros almost clapped along with delight for.

 

“This is where the game would start to take an unusual turn.  No one seemed to expect a frontier rancher to progress far.  So it was only more shocking when a female troll who came to call herself the WILDHAND appeared hailing from the frontier, and keeping her enemies at lance distance, she 8ecame the self styled queen of the 8easts that inha8ited the arena.  This was upsetting to the Gameward, 8ut the Justicar insisted that it was fair, and it was soon clear that for whatever situation she would undertake, there was always a wild card left for her to play, in some animal form, that would save her from the cruelties of the struggle.”

Looking over bright Nitram smiles, she paused a moment, checked her work, and continued.

“8ut as the powers that 8e conspired against her secretly, there was little she could do 8ut come to cross the path of someone who had no issue killing the 8easts of the arena, and likely killing her.  It was the setup of a great tragedy that appeared as nothing more than the work of fate, that would ensure her luck would come to an end, and she would die at the hands of the spirant, 8ut as fate would have it, they were not yet locked in com8at when the world changed forever.”

Hopeful that they would still be heroes of the story, Tavros and Rufioh looked on towards Aradia and Damara, in anticipation of their coming reactions.

 

\--- Chapter 18 ---

 

“The Rust Inversion - The SORCERER” Aranea said with a smirk.  

 

“As unusual as the Wildhand was to the outcome of the game, it was nothing to the oddity that was known as the SORCERER was to society.  More than a thousand sweeps prior, in their short life, one male troll of the lowest 8lood color discovered the secret to a form of clinical immortality.  8y his participation in a trivial act of self suicide, he was a8le to transfer his 8rain into a metallic puppet shell, that would ena8le him to ‘live’ in a manner of speaking, for what potentially seemed like eternity.”

The perversity of grins on the Megido girls would have seemed unusual if she wasn’t entirely used to the kind of stuff that expression would mean from Damara.

As Aranea swallowed trying not to think about why Damara would approach her with that look, she continued.

“The second life the Sorcerer took on after the end of his organic one changed the progress of the world, and set the stage for all of these events to happen.  For you see, it was from his prototype optical sensors that the first visual recorders were developed, and from that point history 8ecame recorded more visi8ly, and more exactly.  He 8ecame the nexus of all video feeds, and though him all information in the world flowed as he directed it.  Some say that his contri8ution was so invalua8le, it was 8y his merit alone that the rust 8lood caste 8ecame freed from any o8ligations to 8eforian society, that he had earned that for his caste for all time as decreed 8y Old Seapaw himself.  When the world changed forever, he was at the arena’s visual control room, trying to solve an unusual failure of certain recorders in the arena.” 

“Now, the final character” she started, “Cannot have her title revealed, until the end of the-” until she was cut off by what seemed like a protest by Vriska, who she angrily turned towards.  In that moment, she could see the multicolor pillar of energy rip the ocean apart, striking one of the other ships in the fleet, only a few hundred feet from the port side of their vessel.

“ITS 8R8KING UP!” Vriska tried to yell between the boards, as the ship rolled and tumbled across the shockwave ripping under it, and the multicolor shimmer refracted by the spraying seawater overtook their flagship.

 

\--- Chapter 19 ---

 

As the ship’s keel realigned back downwards, some of the heaped pile of trolls and a human started to regain their sight, as Vriska pulled her bloodied fingers out of the holes she tore in the boards to not be thrown overboard, and in an unusually captain-like fashion, took record of her crew to make sure they all remained as soon as she made it down the steps into the hold below deck.  She pulled out a map, placed another mark on it, grimly surveyed it’s information, before insisting “We should be clear after that, Aranea, please direct some of the fleet to fan out, that was awfully close.” as she looked down at her fingers, still weeping blood she was certain she could not run out of, already being dead, as a few blue droplets stained the map in unimportant places.

 

\--- Chapter 20 ---

 

After everyone had regained their composure, the fleet altered course slightly, and Vriska joined the others after binding up her hands into mittens with dream bandages.

As Aranea started to loosen her iron grip on the flag she was determined to finish, she stared in horror at the needle which was now sticking out of the back of her hand, not even noticed when she clenched her hands.  As she removed it, some of of her cobalt dream blood would trickle down the needle, down the thread, and create a small pool where the thread connected to the fabrics.  To the amazement of a large portion of the audience she continued to sew with the cobalt thread almost without pause. For whoever it wasn’t obvious to by this point, it was now almost tangible, that the Serket determination made obvious by by this whole pirate voyage flowed as intensely in Aranea as it ever did in Vriska, or even Mindfang.

“I was saying...” She started to recount.

“That the final character won’t quite be revealed like the other ones, leaving the final character of our story as...”

“The Candy 8lood Mutant Goddess Inversion - The ????????” She shrugged in place of where the title would go.

 

Frowning with the anticipation of countless upcoming triggers, Kankri looked on with a frown, but wasn’t going to complain...yet.

“Since she was revealed, the goddess, 8y way of all the aforementioned advancements in technology, 8ecame the most popular troll to ever live.  Her life was a living documentary constantly 8eing recorded from different angles.  Every event she would step outside her immaculate palace hive for 8ecame the most reported news on the planet.  She could sell any product just 8y holding it, she often wore the least amount of clothes as she could, which usually 8reached into fashion completely unseen up to that point.  Galavanting around almost naked, protected 8y an aura of imperial authority, determining every aspect of a culture hungry society, she was the 8ridge 8etween whatever divine 8eing oversaw our existence, and the means for other trolls to 8ecome more like that divinity.”

Aranea’s teeth flashed for a moment, as she knew the standard of their flagship was nearly complete, and instantly her mouth shot back to the slight frown of the story being told.

“When the news went pu8lic that she would enter the game, it flooded with trolls more eager to kill each other than ever imagined, except may8e 8y the Gameward.  All for her sake, countless unprepared aggressors fell dead 8efore the Aspirant, and in her short participation thus far, the Wildhand too had fended off numerous 8loodthirsty attackers.  As the two up and coming heroes of the game approached closer to their inevita8le conflict, errors started 8efall some of the automated video feeds, and while the goddess had elected to keep her exact time of entry secret and preceded it with her first ever media 8lackout, it started to 8ecome clear to the Sorcerer, that across every feed that passed though his mind machine interface, the goddess was nowhere to 8e found.  Following this suspicion, he set out within the arena, knowing full and well the risks of doing so, to personally resolve the issues with his devices unprecedented failures.  In doing this, he would start the day that changed the world forever.”

Leaning in, her expression changed to one of complete seriousness, and her voice became monotone.

“8ecause, you see, the Sorcerer found her.  And though his very eyes, he overrode every stream in the world with what he saw.”

Kankri could only say “no” silently, as he had lost his voice in the grip of momentarily seeing the reality of his own blood a second before Aranea said it.

“She was dead.”

 

\--- Chapter 21 ---

 

“In one single moment, the world erupted into chaos.”

“No camera had seen her die.”

“Her candy red goddess 8lood, that pooled around her 8ody which had seemingly 8een flung into the rock face, spelled something out: ‘THE OFFERING IS DEAD. I, AND I ALONE, PAINT WITH THE BLOOD OF GOD’, and with that, the world, OUR WORLD, 8egan to end in every direction, in every way.”

“In the oceanic palace, the Princess’s 8loodpusher sank in it’s place, and almost stopped entirely.  A few moments more of weakness and she would have 8een dead.  The Cooklord, whose attachment to the OFFERING was stronger than any living troll, instantly went 8erserk, as the carving knife in his hands turned into a massive stonecutting chain engine, that narrowly missed her, slicing the divan she rested upon in half, and morally wounding a sea dweller servant standing 8ehind it.  The next swing would have connected, if the merchant wasn’t already searing with flashes of red and 8lue stro8ing power, that for a moment at least electrocuted the Cooklord, slowing his deadly swing enough for the princess to fall though a crystal ta8le instead, knocking her smoking wand out of her hands a short distance away.  The shards of crystal could not pierce her sea-dweller skin, 8ut they completely o8scured where the wand had fallen.”

Silently, the collective pulse of the room raced.

“As she grappled with the chunks of crystal trying to find her weapon, the Cooklord loomed a8ove her, dripping jade foam from his mouth, as suddenly the flashing hands of the Merchant enveloped his visage. Reeling in the pain of 8eing directly connected to the living telekinetic 8attery tearing at his face, he wheeled around, weapon in hand, and struck the Merchant with the 8roadside of the giant chain weapon, hardly contacting her against the massive, whirring teeth, 8ut utterly picking her up and slamming her against a far wall, ensuring she would no longer 8e a8le to stop his rage.  Then, again, he turned 8ack to the struggling princess, raking at the glass with every ounce of her 8eing.”

“What happened next was hard to notice, as systemic decompression caused 8y losing a 6 inch diameter hole from the center of your a8domen in a fraction of a second when you’re almost a revenant with rage 8ecomes somewhat hard to realize.  He tried to 8ring the saw down upon her 8ut couldn’t.  He felt the massive weight leave his hands, and the sound of the carving knife landing on the ground 8elow him. His 8ody fell forward onto hers, lifeless, pinning the princess into the field of crystal shards, as she winced in pain, una8le to move, the contents of her smoking wand were gone, and the tip was white hot, searing the carpets 8ehind her as it fell again from her hand. She 8reathed a sigh of relief, as over the course of what seemed like forever, the Merchant came to her senses and lifted the jade8lood 8ody off her dear friend she prayed did not just take a crystal though the 8loodpusher.  In a few moments of realizing they had 8oth survived, and in those that follow when they started to remem8er why, the sensation of pain and guilt overwhelmed the princess, and she 8egan to wail in shocked horror at what she had done to who, only a minute earlier, was a loyal, wonderful 8eing instantly driven to madness.  She 8uried her face in the Merchant’s rum8le spheres as she cried and gasped for 8reath and was comforted 8y her still living friend for a few moments 8efore the few local attendants who might have heard anything started to appear at the doorway to the parlor.”

Silence was now the universal theme of the room Aranea entertained.

 

\--- Chapter 22 ---

 

“At the same time.” She started. “Half a world away, the never 8efore seen system of photon groomers that encircled the perimeter 8arrier of the game’s arena, flashed on.  They were originally developed 8y the Sorcerer to project titanic images of the final winners a8ove the arena, signaling its official conclusion, and directing the remaining players in the arena to the exits so they could get their participation gift 8ags.”

“Now it revealed to everyone not starring into a telefeed, the slain 8ody of the Offering, as well as the message written in her 8lood.  Though the Aspirant and the Wildhand had finally locked gazes, at a far range across a great open prairie, they were 8oth forced upwards.” 

“The Wildhand continued forward, until she was finally standing over the Aspirant, that was slumped over, as if gunned down where he stood.  His green coat was a polychrome menagerie of 8lood, and his fingertips seemed to 8e infused, claw and tissue, into solid, tiny rain8ow inlaid sickles extending past the final joints.  He wept uncontrolla8ly, starring at his hands. She leaned over and kissed his face, holding the 8ottom of his head upwards, as if to anoint his forehead with the mark a queen would place upon a victorious crusader of her kingdom.  ‘wE ALL CAME HERE TO HOLD THE HAND OF THE GODDESS...’ she said, in a low tone, as she kneeled down and kissed his mouth deeply, ‘BUT I ALSO CAME HERE FOR YOU’ she said regaining her 8reath, as she pinned him down and-" 

“Tavr0s argh dammit y0u just dr00led 0n my hand.” Sollux interjected, wiping it on the perpetrator’s sleeve. 

After a little bit of somewhat tense laughter about it, Aranea started again. 

“They kissed a moment more, 8efore the Aspirant stopped her, and they 8oth sat up.”

‘These claws aren’t gonna be able to harm anyone else.’ he said.

‘dON’T, SAY THAT JUST YET.’ She put her hands over his.

‘i’VE BEEN KEEPING SOMETHING SECRET, BECAUSE I DIDNT WANT TO DIE TO THE MISTRESS IN THE WINNERS CIRCLE, SO I NEVER WENT. sOME OF MY FRIENDS PICKED UP THE SCENT SOME TIME AGO.’ she motioned with her hands, and two giant sa8er-toothed feline creatures appeared from the 8rush near8y.  She had to, for a few moments, coax the Aspirant to even consider getting on the 8ack of one of the 8easts.  Soon they were riding towards the winner’s circle in a style that while almost silly, seemed extremely fitting for crossing the wilderness.”

“Its almost done! its almost DONE!” she thought, looking over her careful stitching, before looking back up to many sets of ghost eyes bearing down on her, insisting she continue.

 

\--- Chapter 23 ---

 

“8ack in the oceanic palace, the Princess stood up, retrieved her smoking wand, dried her tears, and pulled out a small metal tin.  She opened it, retrieved three of the wrapped sea plant com8ustion pellets, and handed one, along with another entirely less dangerous wooden smoking wand, to the Merchant.  She then crushed the two pellets she was holding into one larger mash, and jammed it into the end of her own smoking apparatus, and inhaled, searing most of the pellet mash in a single 8reath.  As she exhaled, she took a tiny dram of from an unusually shaped flask that was now scratched  in multiple places from grinding against crystal shards while pocketed in her dress earlier.  The merchant proceeded, as dignified as she could, to light her own sea kelp pellet, 8ut ended up coughing as she was not normally one to partake of oceanic luxuries.” Aranea said, just 8arely not concealing her exhaustion.

‘Wwhat can wwe do?’ the Princess pondered out loud, her mind racing to put together a solution.  ‘If i could make it there, the game would have to end 8efore anyone else gets hurt.  8ut even wwith a portal to the entrance, wwe wwould never get to the wwinner’s circle in time, and they wwould never knoww I even entered wwith the feeds all pouring from the Sorcerer himself.’ 

“The merchant, trying to look as cool as possi8le while still reeling from her smoking pellet, point at the telefeed screen 8efore 8oth of them, now knocked on its side from the previous melee, still 8roadcasting.  On it, the Sorcerer had flown to the winner’s circle, where the Justicar, Gameward, 8aroness, and Mistress all stood.  They seemed completely unfazed 8y the death of the Offering, and uncaring that the Sorcerer had revealed it to everyone, even though it meant all the remaining players would converge on them with one single 8loody purpose.”

“The Justicar spoke up. ‘Fly1ng 1s 4g41nst th3 rul3s!’ and slammed down his gavel, and with it teal electricity seemed to course over the jet systems of the Sorcerer, and he landed with a slight clang on the ground 8elow.”

“The Merchant turned towards the princess, and related that the locket around her neck was a powerful emergency trans-locator she had developed for her own personal defense, that could, without using any receivers, relay ports, or transit stations, fold a person a portal’s distance instantly.  It would 8urn up when used, and along with it a considera8le chunk of the merchant’s vast fortunes in remote 8attery systems, 8ut without a moment she unclasped the amulet, uploaded a series of parameters from her personal calculatrix, and put it around the neck of the Princess”

“8efore she could even finish saying thank you to her dear friend, reality dilated around her.  In a moment the entire world seemed to have all the red and 8lue wrung out of it, pooling around her feet.  She seemed to fall, though the swirling pool, into a 8lack eternity.  For a moment, she saw, across the curvature of the planet, every portal in 8eforia. They were all tightly placed, perfect pairs of red and 8lue discs, with not more than an a single 8lack inch 8etween any one of them. In this 8rief jaunt, it was 8ecoming clear that may8e no person had ever spent this much time in this otherworld, as she fell towards a growing, swirling pool of red and 8lue until she crashed though it, landing a meter away from the grounded Sorcerer.  8its of her hair had 8een frayed off 8y the portal, and it was significantly shorter now, and its tips alternated a random red and 8lue pattern, as did torn fringes that slightly shortened her dress.”

“8ack in the oceanic palace, the Merchant was relieved to see that her untested experiment hadn’t 8isected the princess in clear in half or something, and that she landed within the exact mark of her calculations.  With a smile, she left the parlor to secure one of her more sta8le portals to the arena.”

 

\--- Chapter 24 ---

 

“Standing 8efore the triad of judgement and the Mistress, the Princess yelled out ‘Its over noww! If I am here, the contest ends! Crowwn the Mistress and end this, you cannot hide inside of the game forever!’ as she raises her smoking wand towards them.

“According to the rules, this does take priority over everything else, and the Justicar lowered his gavel while agreeing ‘8y your comm4nd!’

“The gavel didn’t strike the desk the triad were seated 8efore.  It was o8structed 8y a single die. A sort of weapon, employed 8y the Gameward, known as the Omen Hexahydrans, were a set of six ru8y dice.  They were rolled 8efore the Justicar, and from them swept a torrent of spirits, which lashed towards one of the two sa8ertooth 8easts clim8ing into the winner circle to their side, 8lowing it clear 8ackwards out of view into the foliage. The Aspirant landed on his hands and feet, while the Wildhand looked on in horror at the stream of 8ound ghosts.”

“The Gameward said with a growl ‘Using the monsters of the arena is against the rules, rule against them 8efore you end the game’ as he swept up the dice with a flick of his hand. ‘Th3r3 1sn’t 4nyth1ng th4t 1s v1ol4t1ng!’ He protested, which the 8aroness responded to with a laugh, 8efore saying, without even changing her gaze. ‘well. THEN HERES AN IDEA. How about... NO MORE RULINGS FOR A LITTLE WHILE’ as she ripped upwards from her seat, and at the same time flinging the Justicar into the same direction as the dice’d 8ig cat, using a seemingly living whip to fling her within the first moment of a terri8le, zealous rage.” 

“It was also at that moment that the Princess was made aware of the reality of another one of her more pressing concerns.  The Mistress had taken on a completely alien sardonic grin, visually expressing the control the 8aroness was asserting.  Using the ancient power of the purple confession of allegiance, that her 8lood alone could replicate, until another would take her place, the teams were now decided.  For what would retroactively 8e known as the final challenge of the winners circle”

Aranea cleared her throat a second. She stood up.  Holding up the completed flag, she waved it around, revealing the same pattern was being sew into the other side simultaneously by her other hand holding up the fabric scraps on the underside, like some kind of industrial sewing engine. “How gr8 is this?!” She exclaimed before starting to make her way to the stairs above deck, before Meenah got in her way. 

“No. Glubbin. Way.”

“Wha-” Aranea started to gasp.

“I can’t interrupt, but you’re just gonna go do that before you Finnsh??”

“It will only take a minute” she protested, trying to push past. 

“ARANEA WE WILL DUEL ON THE DECK OF THIS SHIP TO THE DEATH RIGHT NOW IF YOU WON’T CLAMPLETE THE STORY!” Meenah snapped.

“I will put more holes in you than this poorly imagined flagship” she sneered at the blue blood.

“Wow come on Meenah thats mean you know how hard I worked thinking this up!” Vriska interjected.

“Bubble out, you Mindfang groupie! I’m going to make her finish!”

“We all want that just don’t drag down the status of our awesome flagship, c’mon.”

“GUH OK” Aranea finally exploded, and sat back down, draping the pirate flag around her like some sort of fine fur.  “So, umm...” to which she was instantly replied by large parts of the audience “THE FINAL BATTLE.”

 

\--- Chapter 25 ---

 

“An arrow ripped from the 8ow of the mistress, going completely though the other large cat, slaying it where it stood.  The Wildhand was dismounted as she shrieked in dis8elief at instant destruction of her creature allies. The Gameward rolled again, and the ru8y dice tum8led forward on the podium. A sort of slow, red lightning arced 8etween them, and then lashed into the Sorcerer, seeming to paralyze him.  The princess caught him 8efore he fell and tum8led off the winner’s circle, and set the disa8led ro8ot just outside of the view of the podium.  This may have 8een a poor use of her efforts, 8ecause the Aspirant cleared the distance to the far side of the podium in a leap, and tried to tear the face of the 8aroness off.  8ut his hand couldn’t even start to swing, and rendered ineffective 8y the close proximity to her zealot rage, the aspirant was taken as a hostage, and a troll shield 8etween her and the rest of the suckers.” 

“The Wildhand,” she continued, “recovered from 8eing thrown from her mount, and had no idea what she could do with only a lance, so far away from such powerful enemies who could kill at a distance.  Except, just may8e...”

“In almost a 8link, she closed her eyes, and a hawk descended and snatched one of the  Omen Hexahydrans, and disappeared from view.”

“The hell you will!” the Gameward shouted, and placed his hand to his forehead, and reached into the mind of the Wildhand, stunning her, searching for the Hawk she had just controlled.  What he was not prepared for, was that the Wildhand was controlling at least three dozen hawks among their other animals, and in a snap he started to draw all of them to the winner’s circle, to return to dice so he could roll the set and finish them.”  

“At the very moment that the Princess looked 8ack to the podium, the Mistress was already swinging at her, and in a single punch knocked her unconscious, her first two knuckles going as far as to tear a pair of gashes in her forehead.  Any land troll’s skeleton would have 8een crushed 8y the attack, 8ut the augmentations that 8lessed the sea troll 8iology only left her unconscious, and folded across the disa8led Sorcerer.”

“uHHH, SO THE LOWBLOODS LOST?” Tavros sighed.

“Not yet. Not completely.” She replied.  “As the Gameward had entered the circle’s center and looked skyward for the hawk that would return the sixth die of his set, and the Mistress drew an arrow, 8egan to train it on the captive Aspirant, neither of the triad saw the Justicar, with a 8roken arm and teal 8lood covered eye, approach the podium from the other side.”  

“The 8aroness threw down the Aspirant as the dice fell from the claws of the hawk thief.”

“All at once, the falling die 8ecame reunited with the set in the Gameward’s hand, The Aspirant hit the ground, The 8aroness commands the Mistress to draw and fire on the Aspirant, and the Justicar’s gavel slams onto the podium as he cries ‘ORD3R’ over the chaos.”

“For a moment, a 8rief hiccup, the powers of dominion faltered over their victims, as the gavel emitted a pulse of greenish light.”

“At that moment, the Gameward threw their dice at the Justicar in protest, 8ut 8efore they finished rolling, the lance of the Wildhand pierced his 8loodpusher, and in dis8elief, he turned around, to in his dying moment see the Wildhand was riding the face and horns of a ram like creature, that charged into her for the un8elieva8le mortal 8low com8o attack. As he fell over dead, the final dice had 8ecome still, and every single ru8y cu8e had come up a one, for no effect.”

“The Justicar, already 8adly injured, shuddered at the rolling dice, and fell 8ehind the podium knowing nothing could stop the spirits within.” 

“The Aspirant, so8ered to see the Mistress at the height of her 8ow’s draw, and felt his death must 8e certainly only a moment away”

“The Mistress, was under the grip of a greater spell than the others.  The clarity of her mind returned to her more slowly than the control of her 8ody, and though she felt, in the dilation of time that was known only to warriors of the highest order in the heat of 8attle such as her, that there was no way to keep herself from firing the arrow already in motion.  The world for her froze, there 8ecame nothing in her vision, 8ut her target.”

“As she had trained countless times 8efore, to only see the target, and to leave nothing of it with her perfection, the only thing that moved in her world was the arrow, slowly sliding from her fingertips towards the mass of colors.  8ut this was wrong, she felt.  Why would she ever shoot at a field of flowers? or a painting? or a sunset? She was a warrior of the highest order, not some anarchist, or raving mad woman.  She shot at targets that would represent the master of her skills, not to destroy something 8eautiful. As the arrow almost passed halfway though the 8ow, she lifted against the massive force of the arrow in motion, deflecting the arrow upwards.” 

“To the target 8efore her.”

“The one dripping in the single candy color of a fruit she often used to practice on.”

‘Certainly, she thought. That is my target.’

“The arrow made a terri8le screech as it deflected across the 8ow, like a stringed instrument playing a single sharp note.”

 

\--- Chapter 26, Epilogue ---

 

“Thats the end!” Aranea decreed.

“Really?” the stunned audience asked almost in unison.

“Well may8e theres a little epilogue!” Aranea answered with a smile. 

“The Imperial would never see another mutant red 8lood troll in his lifetime, and some would speculate this his decision to let the game play out, without interference would haunt him for the rest of his life.”

“The Princess awoke dazed a few minutes later, 8ut would come to 8ear a permanent scar from her 8low, and along with the slowly restarting systems of the Sorcerer, They 8oth joined the Justicar as the new triad of judgement, and from the podium, agreed that the prize should 8e split among the three victors of the winners circle, 8ut the Mistress, with her already massive holdings of land and palace, gave up her winnings to the Wildhand and Aspirant, insisting her participation was reward and honor enough.  On the massive hologram a8ove them, and on ever feed, the two kissed enthusiastically while the Mistress and triad looked on warmly.”

“The Merchant cheered from the sidelines of the arena.”

“sO THE TRAGEDY WAS THE OFFERING’S DEATH ONTOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE?” Tavros questioned. 

“Well, the Sorcerer would never 8e a8le to repair the damage caused 8y the Omen Hexahydrans, and he would eventually die for good, his shot at eternity cut short.  8efore this fate overtook him, he recorded all of his knowledge in what 8ecame the reformed system of 8eforian education, and the generations soon after would take to the stars as understanding progressed faster and faster, as society 8ecame controlled, and intellectual, and learned to completely a8hor violence in all forms.  That is why, we were in many was not prepared for our session, I feel.  What our ancestors set in motion haunts us forever.”

“Well, thats the real end, thank you all for coming!” she said, and some of the ghosts disappeared, some went above deck.  Aradia announced she had somehow recorded the whole story for anyone that missed any, and Tavros, Feferi, and Nepeta remained behind.  Tavros had one more thing to ask:

“wAS THE COOKMASTER A RAINBOW DRINKER?”

“Oh right, his 8ody was never found, 8ecause he was a rain8ow drinker, and at some point drank the 8lood of the Offering, unsealing his dark powers.”

Feferi wanted to insist the story seemed fake, but rolled her eyes and went above deck when Aranea showed her a holographic textbook narrated by a male robotic rustblood.

“So whats up with you anyway?”

But she knew. And it was far too late.

Nepeta pounced into her, knocking her entirely off her feet, and for a moment the flag fell though the air and unfurled slightly, revealing the Serket horned skull and crossbones on the black field.

 

\--- THE END ---

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever made, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
